


The Ass Has It

by mediwitch3



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Truth or Dare, homage to louis' ass basically, idk - Freeform, tomlinass, uh, yeah it's pretty self explanatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 08:34:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediwitch3/pseuds/mediwitch3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry likes Louis’ ass. A lot. Sugarscape isn’t really helping his situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ass Has It

Harry didn’t actually start having problems until he met Louis. Louis tested all of Harry’s limits—broke open things that Harry had been perfectly happy leaving closed. Their friendship had very few boundaries, mostly because Louis refused to abide by any. Harry had learned very early on in their relationship that Louis wasn’t very big on rules, of any kind. He had no respect for privacy, nor personal space—he was always up in everybody’s business.

  
  


This actually wasn’t what bothered Harry about his friend. What caused Harry the most problems, was Louis perfect, round,  _feminine_  ass.

  
  


He was always wiggling it in Harry’s face, and wearing impossibly tight, brightly colored trousers. It wasn’t Harry’s fault he was so distracted by it—Louis was the one who drew the attention to it.

  
  


Harry was usually okay at hiding his fascination with it, getting the occasional odd look from his mum or one of the boys if he stared for too long, but mostly going unnoticed. Some days were worse than others, Harry usually having the most trouble during rehearsals and concerts. Interviews generally tended to be a blessing, as they were all forced to stay seated and not go anywhere—not move from their seats and show off their fantastic asses.

  
  


Generally being the key word, of course.

Of course, it was SugarScape, in an attempt to alleviate the boredom of an entire day full of interviews, that created Harry’s awkward situation. Harry loved SugarScape, he really did—they were fun, and the fans loved them. But Harry honestly could have done without the truth or dare interview in which they were currently partaking.

The rules were simple. The fans had submitted questions and dares through twitter, so who ever was doing the daring or “truthing” picked a card from either pile and read it to the victim. The interviewer started, picking Liam, who of course chose truth.

“If you had to sleep with one of your band mates, who would you sleep with, and why?” Karen, the interviewer, read out. Liam’s cheeks flushed brilliantly, as the rest of the boys catcalled. He eyed them shiftily, before sighing.

“Probably… Zayn,” he blushed brighter.

“But  _why_ , mate? Answer the whole question!” Harry jeered. Liam shot him a glare.

“Because… Erm… I dunno! ‘Cause he’s Zayn! Ah! No, wait, I didn’t mean it like—” Liam spluttered embarrassedly as the boys laughed. “Stop laughing. Who’s next?”

Karen gestured for him to choose, and Liam’s lips bent in a smile. He eyed them all, looking vindictive. His eyes came to a stop on Harry, the corners of his mouth canting up in a smirk. Harry gulped nervously, glancing away and hoping desperately for Liam to choose someone else.

“Hey, Harry. Truth or Dare, mate?” Liam’s voice sounded smug, and Harry hated him for it. He couldn’t choose truth—that was too dangerous—and he figured the dares had to be pretty innocuous to be allowed.

“Dare,” he stated, residual nerves still tingling in his stomach. Liam reached out and grabbed a card from the top of the dare pile. His eyes lit up, and he snickered to himself as he read the card. Harry’s face paled—maybe they weren’t as harmless as he thought.

“LarryStylinson’slovechild says: I dare whoever it is to hold Louis in their lap for the remainder of the game. No moving unless dared to, and he has to go back after,” Liam read out pompously. Harry’s mind went blank, barely registering Louis shrug beside him as he got up and climbed into Harry’s lap.

“It’s not like we don’t do this at home, right Hazza?” Louis said, wiggling his perfect little ass into Harry’s crotch. Harry swallowed, hard.

“Right,” he croaked, “Louis says the couch is too uneven.”

“And your crotch isn’t?” Niall quipped. Harry glared at him over Louis’ shoulder.

“Apparently not, mate, or he wouldn’t be sitting here, would he?” Harry growled back, curling his arms protectively around his friend, resting them on Louis’ hips. Louis squirmed a bit more, kicking his feet out and stretching them across the sofa, over Harry’s thighs. He finally settled, leaning back against the armrest. Harry shot him a look. “You comfortable, boo?” Louis grinned, wiggling his butt a little more into Harry’s groin before nodding, a childish giggle bubbling out of his mouth.

“Harry, it’s your turn to choose someone,” Karen told him. Harry started, blood rushing to his face as five equally amused eyes bore into his. He cleared his throat.

“Right, er… Niall, truth or dare, then,” He asked awkwardly. Niall’s face turned thoughtful for a moment.

“Truth!” He exclaimed. Harry nodded, leaning forward around Louis, reaching for the pile of cards. After several moments of Harry trying awkwardly to grab a card, Karen took pity on him and handed him one, as it seemed none of the other boys were going to. Harry muttered a quiet thanks as he leaned back against the couch, Louis readjusting himself on his lap.

“Sarai_Danielle asks: where do you want to have our wedding?” Niall looked thoughtful, before turning to the camera.

“Sarai Danielle, how would you feel about a wedding in Fiji?” He asked, following his question with a wink. He turned back to the rest of the boys. “Louis,” he called out, “truth or dare?”

“Dare me, you little irishman,” Louis exclaimed. Niall chuckled, pulling out a dare card.

“Zayn_in_the_membrane says: I dare you to dance to ‘I’m Too Sexy’. And take your shirt off,” Niall read out, chuckling at the end. Harry felt panic seep in. No. No dancing. That would make everything  _harder_.

“There’s no way it says that. Let me see,” Harry demanded. Niall held up his hands in placating manner, handing over the card. Unfortunately for Harry, the card  _did_  say that, so Louis got up off Harry’s lap and signaled to Karen to turn on the music.

 _I’m too sexy for my love, too sexy for my love—love’s going to leave me_.

The tune crashed out through the speakers, Louis doing a little twirl and wiggling his bum.

_I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt—so sexy it hurts._

And Louis’ shirt came off, landing in Harry’s lap—luckily for him. Louis continued to dance as the song thudded around him, mostly doing body rolls and shimmying his hips. Ironically, every time Louis went to shake his hips, he turned around, so that perfect little arse was right in front of Harry’s face. If Harry didn’t know any better, he’d think Louis’ was doing it on purpose.

“I’m too sexy for my cat, too sexy for my cat,” Louis sang, pushing his hands through Harry’s curls, “Poor pussy, poor pussy cat.” He gave Harry a light slap, smirking down at his dazed friend. Louis did one more twirl, and shook his hips at Harry as the song came to a close. Holding out his hand to Harry, he accepted his shirt back, throwing it over his head and repositioning himself in Harry’s lap. “Did I do well, then?”

Harry snorted, desperately attempting to hide his embarrassment. Louis shot him a glare, his comment interrupted by Zayn’s laughter.

“Go on, Harry, tell Louis how much you enjoyed that,” he snickered. It was Harry’s turn to shoot him a glare. There was no way he knew—no way he had seen what Harry was hiding.

“What are you talking about, Zayn?” he asked innocently, a hint of menace disguised in his words. Zayn only grinned wider at his friend.

“What, Louis can’t feel it?” Zayn said slyly. Harry’s eyes widened, his body going perfectly still.

“Shut up, Zayn,” he warned desperately. Zayn raised an eyebrow, mirth shining in his eyes.

“Oh, Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. You don’t have to hide anymore! Just admit it!” He exclaimed.

“Admit what,” Harry swallowed, his voice cracking. He realized his mistake at Zayn’s delighted expression—he’d just given him the opening he’d been waiting for.

“That you’re in love with Louis!” he declared gleefully. Harry’s face burned red.

“I’m not in love with him!” he all but shouted, “He’s my best friend. We’re close!”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Zayn snorted, “Louis, how are you not noticing Harry’s hard on jammed in your arse?” Harry’s sight went white with embarrassment, and he choked.

“You know, I had noticed,” Louis told their friend, “I just had a little more tact than to announce it to the whole world,” he said pointedly. Zayn had the decency to look slightly sheepish, though defiant curiosity and triumph dancing in his eyes.

“So are you in love with him too, then?” he asked, like he couldn’t keep it in. Louis looked him dead in the eye.

“It doesn’t make any difference how I feel for Harry, or how he feels for me. I love him, and I know he loves me just as much—end of. It doesn’t need to be any more complicated than that,” Louis told him carefully, but surely. Harry felt his heart drop, and he tapped Louis’ hip.

“Let me up—I need to go—” Harry didn’t complete the thought, instead jumping up and rushing from the interview room as soon as Louis was out of his lap. Louis watched him go forlornly. Liam sighed, smacking Zayn upside the head, and then turned to Louis.

“Go after him, mate. Don’t let this tosser ruin your relationship,” he told him gently. Louis hesitated, before following Harry out of the room without a glance backward. Liam turned back to Zayn, him and Niall giving him twin glares. “You absolute twat! We promised we wouldn’t say anything!”

“You could have ruined everything!” Niall added. “We’re lucky Louis wasn’t upset by this—he could have been, easily!”

“We said we were gonna wait until we were sure Louis returned Harry’s feelings!” Liam exclaimed, the three boys completely ignoring Karen and the camera girl, who were still in the room—and still filming. Zayn held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Look, I was just getting frustrated, okay? They weren’t getting anywhere, and I just want them to get married. That’s all I want,” he shrugged, “All we can do now is wait and see what happens.”

*~*~*~*

Harry let the door to the loo swing shut heavily behind him, his head spinning. His stomach was twisting in knots, and his heart was beating a million miles a minute. His breathing became labored as panic began to set in. He slid down the wall, gripping his curls desperately, unable to form a coherent thought—or figure out why he was panicking so much. He didn’t look up as the door opened, expecting Liam. Daddy Direction to the rescue, again.

When familiar hand gripped his, pulling his out of his hair, and lifted his chin, his panic settled. Okay, first fear: gone. Louis wasn’t mad at him, nor was he disgusted. He wouldn’t be here if he was.

He gazed up at his friend, still slightly nervous as to what was going to happen. Louis looked back at him searchingly, his eyes flickering between each of Harry’s as if looking for something.

Finally, after what seemed like a moment’s deliberation, Louis leaned in, pressing their lips together. It was awkward, Louis’ neck bent at an odd angle, and his knees aching on the linoleum floor, Harry straining forward to meet him halfway. Their teeth clacked, and their noses bumped uncomfortably. Louis finally pulled away, sitting back on his heels with a sigh.

“That was terrible,” he stated bluntly, startling a laugh out of Harry.

“Really, really bad,” he agreed. Louis eyed him for a moment.

“Could we try again?” He asked slowly. Harry nodded, motioning for Louis to climb into his lap. Louis did so with a smirk, straddling Harry’s hips and wiggling his bum a little for effect. Harry rolled his eyes, settling his hands on Louis’ hips to keep them still. Louis brought his own up to Harry’s face, cupping his cheeks to hide the trembling in his hands, and leant down again.

This time, their lips slotted together perfectly, molding around each other with ease. It wasn’t like it’s always described in the movies—there were no fireworks, no sparks, no instant arousal. Just happiness. It tickled their bellies and fluttered in their hearts, and rather than feeling passion and lust they felt a sense of coming home—like it was meant to be that way. It didn’t feel new or different at all—and that’s what made it special. It was comfortable. It was safe. It was  _right._

Louis pulling back a little, canting his head in the opposite direction, and fitting his lips back over Harry’s, a contented sigh escaping him. His hands slid from Harry’s cheeks to Harry’s neck, draping themselves over his shoulders and toying with any of the curls in reach. Harry’s own happy sigh echoed back at him, his grip on Louis’ hips slackening, before his hands reached around to hold his ass. Harry pulled back briefly.

“You have the most wonderful arse,” he mumbled against Louis mouth, his thoughts a joyfully jumbled mess. Louis chuckled kissing him again sweetly, his tongue slipping easily past Harry’s lips.

“I guess it’s yours now, yeah?” he answered, his words swallowed greedily by Harry’s mouth. Harry grinned slightly around Louis’ lips.

“Damn straight,” he replied.


End file.
